Don't Let Me Be Gone
by LaurenEP18
Summary: He's struggled with this his entire life. Sure his methods weren't safe, nor practical in the long-term.. but he never strived for long-term. Let's just say one particular werewolf wasn't too keen on letting his self destruction continue. OR Stiles struggles with depression and after being pushed to the outskirts of the pack, he starts to crumble. Enter Derek Hale.*triggers
1. Chapter 1

There is a moment in everyone's lives where they question their existence – the existential elephant in the minds of human beings as a whole.

It's usually just a fleeting thought, something no one wants to think too hard on since the answer is beyond comprehension… Unfortunately for Stiles, this question comes into play on a near daily basis.

It started when his mother began to deteriorate before his eyes. He could still remember the blank look she gave him on the day she passed. The look that showed complete lack of recognition for him – her only son. It haunted him to this day.

If he could, he would have taken years off of his life and given them to his mom, just to have her around a bit longer. Even just one day of dancing around the kitchen, flour clouds billowing around them as they attempted to bake.

"Mama loves you." She used to coo before tucking him in at night, "I'll always be with you."

After she had died, Stiles used to go to the cemetery while his dad was at work. He'd yell, scream, and cry at her stone, "You lied!" He'd sob, "You're gone."

He stopped frequenting her grave after he'd fallen asleep beside her stone and his dad put out a BOLO on him. She wasn't there, so there was no point in visiting.

His dad's constant worried looks lessened after he'd met Scott. Scott was like a literal ball of sunshine and rainbows, pushing the darkness out of Stiles' vision for a time.

Then, like all things in his life, everything went to shit.

Which takes him to the present…

 _"The bite is a gift."_ Those words echoed in his head as Stiles was bum rushed by a rival alpha, his temple colliding with the tiled wall.

He groaned, pulling himself up, "This is my life." He muttered sarcastically, staggering over to his bat that had flown to the other side of the room.

Scott flashed his newly red alpha eyes, sprinting across the room in a flash. Stiles was pulled back by the nape of his neck, out of the way. Derek pressed past, advancing on the beast.

He tried ignoring the tingling sensation on his skin.

Stiles swung his bat at the beta about to lunge at Derek's back, earning a harsh blow back that rung through his bones. Golden eyes glared daggers at him, causing shivers to run down his spine as he took a cautious few steps back.

Clumsiness being his middle name, he – of course – had to trip over the locker room bench, knocking his head into the lockers this time with a resounding clang that distracted Scott and Derek.

He managed only to see Scott's annoyed face before blacking out.

Normally his nights were restless and plagued with nightmares… but the nothingness of being passed out was a little too blissful. It was like nothing existed – like he didn't exist.

Fuck. He was going to that place in his mind again. The place he held behind lock and key.

"I know you're awake."

Stiles vehemently refused to acknowledge Scott's voice. He just wanted to enjoy the blackness again…

"Stiles." His eyes peeked open on their own accord, somehow unable to ignore the second voice. Derek's eyebrows were furrowed – as usual – but there was a slight downturn of concern there too.

Scott on the other hand looked pissed, "Dude." He started, voice too loud, "Like, were you even trying? You could have gotten us all killed!"

Immediately going on defense, Stiles' fired back with as much sarcasm as he could muster, "My bad. Totally should have ignored the concussion from being flung into a tile wall, Scott." Stiles shifted on the bed, uncomfortable under the increasingly irritated alpha's stare. He had no right to be so angry. Stiles had been risking his very human life to help the pack – hell, he's been risking his life for years! Give him some credit.

Scott rolled his eyes, "It's not a joke, man." He pursed his lips, crossing his arms across his chest, "Maybe…"

Stiles tensed, "Don't." He shook his head, causing more of a headache, but he didn't care, "Don't you fucking dare, Scott."

Derek stepped forward a bit, "Scott-"

"No, Derek. You saw what happened today. We can't defend ourselves and protect him." He sighed, "I'm sorry, Stiles. I just think it's best if you didn't come with us from now on… I mean, you can still help out with research and-"

"Get out." Stiles could feel his stomach drop, a single tear falling onto his cheek that he didn't bother wiping off.

Scott – the dick – had the nerve to look distressed, "You're not kicked out of the pack-"

He turned on his side, "Please just, just go."

Scott didn't understand. He didn't know that Stiles needed this. He needed the action, the motivation of saving people and doing something with his life. If he didn't have this, he didn't know what to do. Stiles had no back up plan, always assuming he'd just end up being a casualty of battle. Ironically, being a part of the pack had curbed his vaguely suicidal ideation.

He heard Scott leave, but he sensed he still wasn't alone. Derek lingered a bit longer before moving towards the door as well. Stiles turned his face into his pillow, biting back a sob.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder for a moment before it was gone and then the door clicked shut.

He worked to pull himself together before his dad showed up.


	2. Chapter 2

Four hours later and his Dad still had not shown up.

Not that he was surprised – he was more so annoyed. He wanted to get the hell out of this place that held so many bad memories.

"You're still awake?" Scott's mom peeked into his room, a warm smile on her face. She reminded him so much of his own mother that it hurt sometimes.

Stiles shrugged, "Waiting on Dad to come sign me out."

Melissa walked into the room, "Your Dad called me a couple of hours ago – said he wouldn't be able to get here tonight."

Oh.

"But you can sign yourself out." She continued, waving several stapled papers together.

Stiles frowned, "I thought you had to be eighteen to sign yourself out without a guardian present?"

Melissa's face dropped a bit before pulling her smile back on, "Today's your birthday, Stiles." She pointed to the clock on the wall, "It's officially forty five minutes into your eighteenth birthday. Congratulations, here are some papers to sign." She laughed.

He'd been so caught up in the supernatural, he hadn't even given thought to the time.

As Stiles took his paperwork, he resisted the urge to glance at his phone for the umpteenth time that night, knowing no one had tried to contact him. It seemed he wasn't the only one to forget about his birthday…

Not that he was bitter about it. He never really liked his birthday anyway. Morbid as it was, he just thought of it as another year passed closer to his death, and the deaths of everyone he loved… Regardless of how he felt, he always put on a smile when his friends insisted on celebrating. He wondered if he'd have to bother with it this year.

Stiles took the offered paperwork and quickly filled it out, in a hurry to escape the suffocating room.

Melissa tried to say something to him, but he couldn't make out the words. He was breaking down too fast and if he didn't get out of there, there would be too many witnesses to his oncoming panic attack.

He'd barely crossed the threshold of the hospital when he collapsed sideways into the shrubbery beds lining the front of the building. Stiles barely registered the sharp twigs nip at his skin as he curled onto his side and grit his teeth, hoping to come down from the attack quickly.

A rustle of leaves alerted him to another presence, but he couldn't find the strength to unclench his eyelids.

"J-just get it o-over with." He panted out loud to whoever – or whatever – was looming over him.

He heard a quiet whine and then a large, warm mass slumped down beside him. A wet nose prodded at his arm and he finally pried opened his eyes. In the dark, he couldn't quite see much besides an outline of what looked to be a very large dog. The animal nudged at him again, huffing at him. Stiles cautiously unclenched one hand and rested it on the dark fur of the now content dog.

Stiles struggled against the dryness of his throat, "H-hey, buddy. You lost?" The dog ignored him, lying quietly by his side, "Where's your owner?" He got a growl for that question – as if the dog understood what he said. Stiles rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back to stare up at the building, "This is just ridiculous. I'm lying in the dirt in the middle of the night, having a conversation with a dog." He sat up, wiping the earth from his back, "Rock bottom, here I come." He muttered, glancing over at the dog. Blue eyes, bright from the light coming from the hospital stared into his own, "You coming with?" He asked as he stood. The dog huffed indignantly – if that's even possible for a dog to do, "I mean home with me, not to rock – What am I even doing?" Stiles shook his head and stepped out of the bushes, gaining a few concerned looks from a couple walking inside. He turned to see if the dog was following him, but there was nothing there. Had he just imagined it?

Ignoring the strange pit in his stomach, he began the long trek home.

Once he stepped into the warmth of his house, he realized how cold he actually was. He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and fell into it, wrapping his arms around his torso to hold back the shivers. Stiles worried at his bottom lip as he eyed the half full bottle of whisky sitting on the counter.

It was his birthday, why not take a couple shots to drown his sorrows? His Dad had done it when his mom died…

But he also remembered how hard it was for his dad to stop. Stiles was already a mess, he didn't need to add alcohol dependency to his list. He had a tendency to become attached to things, and if taking a few shots of liquor numbed his whirring mind, he knew that he'd continue to go to it.

Instead of giving in, he pushed away from the table and climbed the stairs two at a time, shutting his door behind him. He collapsed heavily on his bed – body tired but mind sharp. Stiles knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep.

He stared up at his ceiling and imagined an airplane engine falling through and crushing him like in Donnie Darko.

Stiles jerked himself into a sitting position, running his hands through his hair, "Fuck."

He had always had a reckless demeanor, very careless when it came to himself… but he hadn't had any thoughts like that since his mom died and his dad was hidden somewhere in the bottom of a bottle.

There wasn't any intent behind it, but he didn't like the thought popping up regardless.

Tired, weary tears strolled lazily down his cheeks as he stared at the wall across from him unseeingly. Scott is his best friend; he surely hadn't actually kicked him out of the pack. He needed them, probably more than they needed him. It kept him moving, kept the darkness that he felt festering at the base of his skull from reaching out and consuming him.

His phone dinged beside him and he jumped slightly at the unexpected sound. He quickly unlocked his phone to read the message:

Scottie Boy – sent 1:52am – happy birthday dude.. hey so i'm gonna be busy 2nite w/ a thing so maybe we can celebrate ur birthday nxt weeknd?

Fuck. He knew. He knew what Scott was going to be busy with. Every other Friday night the pack had a meeting, which usually turned into a social hang out session unless something was actually threatening Beacon Hills… And Scott had basically just made it clear that Stiles wasn't going to be accepted.

He started to send a reply, but Scott sent another message after seeing Stiles' reply bubble pop up.

Scottie Boy – sent 1:55am – pls dont make this any harder than it has to be

No, no no no no – Come on. Stiles called Scott, holding the phone to his ear with shaking hands only for his call to be sent straight to voice mail. He tried two more times before chucking his phone at the wall with a guttural yell, falling back onto his bed and trying in vain to ignore the stinging of his eyes.

He coughed out a strangled sob, trying to control himself. This was ridiculous. Just because he wasn't welcome at pack meetings didn't mean he was banished from being friends with everyone. Scott had said that they'd celebrate his birthday later and he'd see everyone at school still… so why were a couple of texts making him fall apart like this?

The dark side of his mind reminded him that he'd never had it together in the first place.

He barely heard a shuffling before a weight fell onto his bed. Stiles rolled over quickly to see the same dog from before curled up beside him, making soft, distressed whines. He looked over to see his door was still shut and his window was open a crack, but that wasn't unusual. This dog must be some sort of hallucination… so he decided to just let it be and he curled his fingers into the black dogs long fur and hid his face in it's neck, letting out all the tears he had until he finally passed out.

When he woke up, his dad was knocking on the door and the dog was gone without a trace.

"Hey kid." His dad opened up his door, a shy smile on his face, "Sorry I couldn't come get you last night. Mel assured me you were, and I quote, 'Totally and completely fine, calm down Stilinski.'" He held up a jug of maple syrup, "I made mom's special birthday pancakes as apology. Happy Birthday, kid."

Stiles forced a smile, he knew his dad was trying, "Thanks, dad. I'll be down in a minute."

His dad closed his door and headed downstairs. Stiles let out a breath and got out of bed, swaying a bit on his feet. He decided that he was going to the pack meeting that night regardless. With the intention settled, he followed the scent of pancakes downstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

The rain was coming down in sheets. It figures. Stiles wasn't sure he believed in omens, but – as a loud crack of thunder sounded above his Jeep – he was pretty sure this was one.

He pulled up to Derek's loft early, hoping to beat most of the pack there so he could get in without a fight. Derek didn't seem to have any issue with him… strange as that was. He hoped the wolf would let him in so he could plead his case to the rest of the pack.

Stiles jogged up the steps to Derek's floor, knocking on the large sliding door.

"Stiles."

Stiles jerked around to see Derek standing behind him, soaking wet, "Jesus, Derek. Warn a guy." He let out a heavy breath.

Derek quirked an eyebrow, "Isn't that what I just did?"

"No." Stiles crossed his arms, avoiding watching the droplets of water drip from dark hair, "You totally just ninja wolfed me." Derek walked past him, pulling open the door to his home, "Dude. You literally smell like wet dog."

"I'm assuming you want to come in." Derek said, blocking his path, "Probably not a good idea to insult the guy with the keys."

Stiles let out a dramatic sigh, "Aw, come on sour wolf. You know I literally have zero control over what comes out of my mouth."

"Unfortunately." He said, stepping out of the way and allowing Stiles through.

Stiles pulled off his jacket and hung it on a rack, running a hand through his wet hair, "Thanks, man."

Derek shrugged, walking swiftly to the back room. He heard the shower turn on a moment later and felt a twinge of guilt for saying anything about the wet dog smell.

"You didn't smell that bad!" He called out. Out of nowhere a pile of soaking wet clothes knocked him in the back of the head, "Oh my god!" Stiles glared down the hall, holding back a blush, "I take that back! You reek!"

He could swear he heard a laugh coming from down the hall.

Stiles tossed the clothes in the sink, not giving into wandering around to find the hamper like he wanted.

When he walked back into the main room, Scott was standing in front of the open door, arms crossed over his chest, "What are you doing here, Stiles?"

Stiles frowned, "Hello to you, too."

Derek came out from the bathroom then, dressed in dry clothes, "Scott." He nodded.

Scott's eyes tinged red, "Why did you let him come here? We were having a meeting."

Derek's eyes flashed a familiar blue in response, "Last I checked, this is my loft."

Stiles never understood why Derek chose to join Scott's pack. He didn't strike him as the submissive type, and right now, he could see their ranks being tested.

Wiping a weary hand across his forehead, Scott leveled Derek with a pleading look, "You know why he can't be here. It's for his own good."

"My own-"

"And it's hard enough for the pack as it is. Seeing him – smelling him… It'll be too much." Scott ignored him, continuing his reasoning.

He felt sick, "Scott." Stiles raised his voice enough to get the alpha's attention, "I want to have an official meeting with everyone. There should be a vote. If you're truly as fair of an alpha as you say, you'll grant me and our pack this choice."

Scott pursed his lips, "There was already a vote, Stiles."

"It was far from unanimous." Derek grunted.

Stiles took in a steady breath, "So this is it then. You're banishing me from the pack because I'm human and it's too dangerous?" Scott nodded, "Isn't it more dangerous to not keep me in the pack?"

"We will protect you just like we protect everyone else in town. We won't let you get hurt, Stiles." Scott promised.

"This is hurting me!" He yelled, snapping his mouth shut before he said any more.

Scott had the audacity to look upset, "Stiles-"

"Yeah, fine, you guys don't need me. Maybe a few of you even don't want me… But did you ever think that I need you?"

After a full minute of silence, Scott finally made eye contact, his eyes glowing red, "This is for your own good."

Stiles nodded, his lips pulling down, "If you were ever my friend, you'd understand."

With that, he side stepped Scott and left the loft. The rest of the pack was standing outside in the halls, wearing various emotions across their faces. Lydia made an aborted gesture, as if to reach out to him, but Jackson placed a hand on her shoulder and she dropped her arm.

He wanted to say something. Tell them they're wrong, that they need to defend him, explain himself, tell them he'll miss them, something… But he dropped his eyes and pressed past them, taking the stairs down one at a time.

What was he going to say to make them take him back? It wasn't up to them. That was probably another reason why Stiles was ousted from the pack, something building up over time… He was human, therefore he didn't have the bone-deep need to obey the alpha. Stiles was loyal to the pack, but he had the ability to go rogue if he didn't agree with the alpha's final word. Which he proved tonight when he showed up unannounced and unwelcome to a pack meeting.

He was about to walk out of the building when the arguing started above him. Stiles could make out his name amongst the growling.

Good, he thought bitterly as he stepped out of the double doors and into the pouring rain. Stiles wasn't sure how long he stood there, getting soaked through. He couldn't hear much over the hiss of the water splashing the pavement, so he startled when he felt something nudge against his leg. He glanced down to see the same black dog from before pushing him forward, blinking blue eyes against the rain to see him.

Without much light around, Stiles could tell that the strange blue glow to the dog's eyes wasn't a reflection or a trick of the light. He still hadn't made his mind up that this wasn't all some hallucination, but what if there was a shifter trapped inside the dog like Malia had been?

Stiles cautiously reached out a hand, surprised when the dog pressed up into his palm, leveling him with a strange look. Though he shouldn't be surprised. If this was indeed the same dog, it had taken a vested interest in him since he'd first seen him outside the hospital.

"Come on, boy." He said and he could swear the dog rolled his eyes. Maybe there was a human stuck in there.

The dog followed Stiles to his car, hopping in when he opened the passenger side door.

Stiles got in and drove the two back to his house. It was barely sprinkling by the time he got there and he was thankful his dad wasn't home.

Stiles turned to the dog, studying it for a while, "Well, if I'm gonna keep you, I should probably give you a name until I can figure out a way to help you." The dog's eyes narrowed just slightly, "What? Do you just want me to call you dog?" The dog huffed, "Alright, Derek." If it was possible, the dog did a double take. He'd meant it as a joke, but judging by the strangely human reaction the dog had towards that name… "Derek?"

The dog – Derek? – pressed down on the door lever and escaped the Jeep, running for the woods.

Still reeling from what he thought had just happened, Stiles jumped out of his Jeep and started towards the forest line.

Before he could get there, Derek came walking out, dressed in a dirty t-shirt and jeans. Stiles stood there, jaw agape.

"Let me explain." He said, holding his hands up towards him, eyes glowing blue.

"What… the… fuck…"


	4. Chapter 4

Derek kept his palms out, trying to think of a way to explain, but he couldn't get a good enough read on Stiles' emotions.

His initial reaction had been shock, which Derek understood, but there was an undercurrent of something that seemed like a mixture between excitement, embarrassment, and another emotion he couldn't quite sort out.

Before he could figure out what all the swirling emotions meant, it abruptly switched to something sour, causing Derek to stop his forward movement.

Stiles' eyes seemed to darken, his brows shadowing his eyes in a scowl that would have been impressive by Hale standards had it not been directed towards him, "What the fuck?" He said again, this time the surprise had completely left his voice.

"You were having a panic attack, Stiles." He explained, "I knew you'd be even more upset if you thought one of the pack had seen."

Stiles huffed, "I'm not some fucking-" He stopped and Derek could hear his teeth clench as he worked to calm himself.

Derek's wolf – which had, for some reason, attached itself to Stiles – was clawing at him, wanting him to go and gather the distressed boy up in his arms. He swallowed back the feeling in time to see the back of Stiles' head before he slammed the door to his house shut.

He sighed, walking up the steps to the door, "Stiles." Derek listened to the familiar erratic heartbeat on the other side of the door, "I'm… Look, I know that you probably think I'm even more of a – how you'd so eloquently put it – 'creeper wolf' than before. And I'm… sorry." He was shit at apologies, so he hoped Stiles understood he really meant it.

After a full minute, Stiles pulled the door open a crack, revealing one whisky colored eye, "So you can really full-shift into an actual wolf?" Derek nodded, "That's cool…" Stiles mumbled, walking away from the door, leaving it open.

"Except for smelling like wet dog apparently." Derek tried for a smirk, which turned into a full smile when he heard Stiles huff out a laugh.

Stiles fell onto the couch, rolling his eyes at Derek's hesitant stance, "Dude, sit. You're making me twitchy standing there like that." He walked closer, pausing for a second when he heard Stiles' heartbeat spike.

"Do I make you nervous now?" He asked quietly, taking a step back. God he'd really fucked up, hadn't he…

"You can't just use your werewolfy nose and ears and think you've got all my mannerisms figured out, man." Stiles pursed his lips, crossing his arms.

Derek raised an eyebrow, "I know that crossing your arms is a nonverbal sign that you're closing yourself off." He countered, "Body language 101."

Stiles glanced down at his arms before flopping them down at his sides, "I'm just-" He let out a frustrated grunt, letting his head fall back against the cushions, "It's not you it's me, is the best way to put it unfortunately." He rubbed his hands across his blushed face, "I'm just having a bad week."

If Derek were in more control of himself, he might have fought back, but suddenly his wolf decided that it needed to take the reigns and pressed forward into the driver's seat. Derek, being at a loss for what to say – as per usual – let it free.

One moment he was looking down at Stiles and the next he was right beside him.

He pressed his nose against the boy who flailed back into the couch.

 _Thump-thum-thump-thum-thump-_

The wolf's world had become but a pinprick in the galaxy, narrowed down to the boy blinking wide honeycomb eyes at him.

 _-Patience. Wait.-_

The hand rested hesitantly against his fur. He pressed up into the curve of his palm.

"You're really in there, huh?" Boy's lips turned up, head tilted to the side.

 _-Yes.-_

He blinked up at the boy, resting his head on the edge of the cushion.

 _-Stiles.-_

 _-My Stiles.-_

"Do you like being a wolf?"

 _-You like me as wolf. So yes.-_

He nodded his large head, sitting beside the human whose hand was still petting through his fur.

 _-Boy seemed lost in thought, scratching behind ears. Good scratcher.-_

"Maybe you can teach me how to fight?" He mused, glancing down at him, "Then Scott wouldn't have any reason to push me away, right?"

He shrugged his large shoulders, not sure of what Alpha would think.

"Can you teach me some moves?" He asked.

He nodded, standing up. Grabbing his discarded clothes up in his mouth, he padded around the corner, morphing back into human form.

Derek quickly donned his clothes before walking back, shocking the teen who was now pulling on a burgundy sweatshirt, "Shit, sorry. I was expecting it, but still." He gestured grandly at Derek who just shook his head.

"I guess you want to start now?"

Stiles snatched up his baseball bat with a grin, "Aye, aye Cap." He rushed out the door, tossing over his shoulder, "FYI, fetch isn't a combat move!"

Derek smirked, "You have to build up your endurance before learning battle moves, Stiles." He snatched the bat from his hands and chucked it out towards the trees, "Fetch."


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles panted, sprawled out on the grass with Derek's palm gripping lightly around his throat, "I know I said - not to go easy – on me…" He knocked Derek's hand away easily, wiping the sweat from his brow, "But come on, man."

Derek smirked, offering a hand to heave him up, "You think I wasn't still going easy on you?"

Stiles balked, wiping the grass and dirt from his jeans, "Stupid muscly werewolves." He grumbled as he returned to his fighting stance.

It had been a few weeks since Derek had agreed to teach him how to fight and honestly he felt like he was getting a lot out of it. He'd even started to enjoy their sessions, slowly forgetting the actual reason he'd asked for Derek's help in the first place.

Scott had been avoiding him, along with the rest of the pack sans Derek. He'd asked about them before, but the wolf's eyes glowed blue and he went silent.

Derek got hold of his arm as he tried to take a jab, twisting him so he was pinned with his back against Derek's broad chest, "You're distracted." He said matter of factly, his breath tickling the hair behind his ear.

He spun away, clearing his throat, "Yeah, that kinda comes with the ADHD package." Stiles ran a hand through his hair, now wet with sweat, "Ugh, I'm all gross now. Can we call it a d-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Derek had grabbed his leg and pulled it out from under him, lifting him up in the air. His shirt fell down over his face, covering Derek's no doubt amused face from view, "Derek, we're friends, right?" Derek hummed his agreement. Stiles pulled his shirt away from his face so he could glare up at the wolf, "Friends don't hang friends upside down by their ankles. It's common courtesy." Derek rolled his eyes, lowering him back to the ground, "God, were you raised by wolves or something?"

"You stink." Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles' indignant face.

"Well shit, Derek, I bet I do." He stalked back towards Derek's building, "I probably smell like wet dog, no thanks to you."

Derek sniffed the air discretely, but Stiles caught him, "You do. Smell like me, I mean. Not like wet dog though." The older man's cheeks slightly colored, causing Stiles to skip a step, almost face planting.

He really didn't need to have any thoughts about Derek liking him. Well, at least not like that. Over the past weeks they've actually really gotten along and he didn't want to go fuck it up by developing – even more of – a crush on him.

Derek pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt once he pulled the loft door shut behind them, wiping his face with it.

God, Stiles was fucked…

Before his body reacted to the Adonis beside him, he raced off to claim the shower first. It was going to have to be a cold one….

After a long suffering shower, Stiles came out of the noticeably not steaming bathroom only to come face to face with irritated red eyes.

"Scotty." Stiles regarded, side stepping him and sending Derek and annoyed frown.

"That's all you have to say for yourself?" Scott growled, "Why the hell haven't you answered any of my texts?"

Stiles actually laughed at the audacity of the alpha wolf, "Really? You're kidding, right?" He glanced over at Derek whose arms were crossed over his broad chest, "He has to be kidding."

Scott moved into his line of vision, blocking Derek, "I'm not kidding, Stiles. You can't just initiate radio silence because you're mad at me. I've had to get updates from Derek on you!"

"Traitor!" Stiles pointed at Derek who only raised one challenging eyebrow.

"Stiles-"

Stiles put up a hand, "Let me stop you right there big bad alpha. I literally walk past you every day at school. Do I need to wear a red hood for you to notice me? Cause you could have talked to me millions of times but you and the rest of them just put your heads down as I pass by like I'm a fucking pariah."

Scott huffed, "It's not that simple-"

"Well it seems like we're having a conversation right now." Stiles challenged.

"It's hard to see you and talk to you, Stiles. We miss you too much."

Stiles nodded, "Clearly. You're really tugging at my heart strings, buddy."

Scott's eyes glowed red for a moment before returning to his natural color, "Can you cut the sarcasm, man? I'm trying to have a legit conversation right now."

"What did you want to say then?" Derek walked across the room, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Stiles.

Scott sighed, wringing his hands together, "There's a creature or… or something that's targeting people in law enforcement."

"Dad." Stiles murmured, checking his phone to see no new messages, "How long has it been here?" Scott didn't answer, so Stiles glanced up at him, "Scott?"

"It came around a couple of weeks ago." He admitted.

Stiles whipped his head around to face Derek, "Did you know about this?"

Derek's wide eyes looked up at him, "No."

"He hasn't told you?" Scott asked, clenching his teeth.

Stiles looked questioningly at Derek, "I'm not a part of the McCall pack anymore."

"What?" He looked incredulously between the two men.

Scott narrowed his eyes, "Guess he's been too busy teaching you how to fight to be on alert." Derek growled but Stiles put a hand on his shoulder, dulling the glow. Scott raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"Has anyone warned my Dad?"

"We're handling it. I just needed to check in to tell you to answer my calls." Scott pulled his backpack up his shoulder.

Stiles shook his head, "I thought we were supposed to be brothers. Fuck all the werewolf stuff, school, crushes, whatever. It was supposed to be you and me. We were family, dude. We were pack. I don't care what you say about how it's so fucking hard for you all. I'm glad it's hard." He blatantly ignored the tears threatening to fall, "I just wanted you to know that I don't want to be part of your pack anymore." He said those words without thinking, realizing the truth as they came out of his mouth, "I don't think I'd feel safe." It went without saying what he wouldn't feel safe from.

"I'm sorry, Stiles." Scott blinked away a tear, taking a step back, "I'm sorry."

With that, he left the loft, leaving behind Stiles and Derek. A human and a wolf without a pack.


	6. Chapter 6

After Scott left, Derek called in a couple favors to find out what was going on in town. The current big bad roaming around Beacon Hills was what he believed to be a Wendigo. Apparently some teenagers disrupted some sacred site the natives had used a long time ago, awakening the monster.

"Maybe it's going after cops because something happened back when it was human involving law enforcement?" Stiles suggested, pouring over old texts he'd found about the creature in Derek's makeshift library.

Derek nodded, "It's possible." Stiles read a few sentences from one book before bouncing to another open volume, spinning around to open a new tab on his laptop, "I can literally hear your mind buzzing from here, Stiles."

The boy's head snapped up, a pencil between his teeth, "Hmm?"

"Forget to take your Adderall today?" He guessed, taking in a small huff of air. The chalky scent of medication wasn't clear on the human today he noticed.

Stiles ignored him – or forgot what he'd said – as he checked his phone again, "My Dad's not responding to any of my texts." He set the research aside, getting to his feet, "I think I should head by the station. I don't like that no one's told him about what's going on."

Derek felt guilty that he didn't stay in McCall's pack for the sake of being in the know about what was happening in his town. But he could constantly feel the urge to stay away from Stiles through the pack bond and that was something he just wasn't able to do. Damn if the human didn't somehow weasel his way into making a permanent space in Derek's life.

"I'll go with you." He said nonchalantly, pulling on his jacket.

Stiles paused, eyeing him suspiciously, "For my wonderful company or to keep an eye on me?"

He pulled the loft door open, "The company. Clearly." He deadpanned, waiting for the other boy to follow him out.

"I knew it." Stiles nudged him as he waltzed out of the loft, turning his head with a grin.

Derek found himself smiling back at the teen without realizing it, "Ass."

"You love me." Stiles sang over his shoulder as he hopped down the stairs.

He ignored the tightening in his stomach at his words.

This is usually what happened. Stiles would drive over to spar with him and then – after ransacking his kitchenette for food like one of the wolves – he would drive back home with Derek. Once he was safely inside, he'd release his wolf and go for a run out in the preserve to kick off some energy.

It wasn't unusual for the Sheriff to be home, but the door to the Stilinski house was wide open, as was the squad car parked in the driveway.

"Dad!" Stiles yelled before he'd even fully stopped the car, jumping out and running head first into the house.

"Stiles!" He called after him, speeding up right on his heels.

The smell of blood hit his nose just as the salty bite of tears did. The kitchen was a crime scene.

"DAD." Stiles slid onto his knees on the blood stained linoleum, "Dad please! Wake up, Dad!" He cried, grabbing the sheriff and clutching him desperately.

Derek rushed over, trying to listen over Stiles' sobs, "He's still breathing."

"Turn him, Der. H-he won't make it to the hospital." Stiles begged.

Derek shook his head, already dialing 911, "I'm not an alpha now. I-I can't." He hated himself a little bit more right then.

Stiles unlocked his phone with blood slick fingers, pressing a contact and holding it up to his ear. Derek watched him as he told the operator what had happened. An ambulance was on its way… but the shallow breathing of the sheriff was no longer audible.

"Where's Scott?!" Stiles cried into the phone, "I need him to come to my house – my Dad – he's – why isn't he answering his phone?"

"Stiles." The boy looked across to him and began shaking his head, the phone in his hand dropping to the floor, "I'm so sorry." He choked out.

"No." He coughed out a sob, focusing on his father's slack face, "NO. S-Scott's gonna come. He's gonna save you – Dad – come on. Don't-" Stiles' body was shaking vigorously, one tear no longer distinguishable from the next, "I've still got you, Dad. You can't leave me."

Derek heard the sirens coming down the street, too little too late. He shuffled around the Sheriff's body, resting a hand on Stiles' shoulder. There was nothing he could say.

The paramedics bustled in, but after a moment of harried movements, the team calmed down, pronouncing Sheriff Noah Stilinski – Stiles' father – dead.

Derek had to physically hold Stiles back as he argued with the paramedics, screaming at them to come back and save his dad. But Derek could sense the man was no longer with them.

The paramedics looked sadly at the crying teen, trying to comfort him, but he kept dodging their words. When one of them brought in a body bag, Stiles lost it. His chest began to heave as he threw himself over his father's body, begging them not to put him in there.

Blinking past his own tears, Derek had to pry Stiles away from his dad's body, pulling him into the back room. The teen kept hitting at his chest, crying out nonsensically before finally dropping his head onto Derek's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, pulling him close. No words could take away the pain he knew the boy felt, so he just tried to keep him whole.

Stiles pulled back when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Derek saw Scott's picture pop up on the screen just before Stiles threw the phone against the wall with as much force as he could muster.

He stood in the middle of the room, face pink and body shivering, "Derek?"

Derek quickly came over, resting his hand against Stiles' neck, "What is it? What do you need? Just tell me."

Stiles grabbed him, tucking his face into his chest, "I don't want to be here anymore." He wept.

"I'm going to take you back to the loft." He held Stiles close, leading him out of the house and past the flashing ambulance. The keys were still in the ignition of the Jeep, so he helped Stiles into the passenger side of the car before getting into the driver's seat. He'd never driven so fast in his life.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles was beginning to scare him. Not a lot did that – scared him…

The boy hadn't muttered a single word nor had he shed another tear since leaving his home a few hours ago. Derek tried to talk to him, but words weren't really his forte. Being a born wolf, touch was easier for him to communicate comfort with, but Stiles had backed himself into a corner of the loft, physically curling back whenever he attempted to approach.

He tried to keep himself from feeling bad about it, knowing it wasn't personal that Stiles shied away from him. People dealt with grief in different ways, and he supposed Stiles preferred to be alone. Not that Derek liked it.

Instead of talking or trying to offer any physical comfort, he simply sat against an adjacent wall. Close enough to touch, but not quite. Stiles could reach out if he wanted to.

His phone had been rumbling on the coffee table down stairs but he didn't want to leave Stiles alone, so he ignored it. What he couldn't ignore was the now incessant knocking on the loft door.

With a growl he stood slowly and walked down the stairs, pulling the door to the side to see a pack of distressed werewolves.

"Now is not the time." He dismissed, attempting to shut the door, but the alpha held it at bay.

Scott's eyes were red, not just with alpha powers but from tears, "Derek, we need to see him. We-" Lydia cleared her throat, glaring daggers at the young man, "I made a huge mistake. I need to make things right. Please."

Derek hesitated, "I'll ask if he wants to see you."

Scott huffed in irritation, "He's my best friend-"

"He was your best friend. Not anymore, Scott." Derek allowed the pack of teens inside, turning to go see Stiles, "Stay here."

Scott, Lydia, Allison, Jackson, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd filed into the loft all wearing varying emotions on their faces ranging from anger to despair.

Derek went up the steps to see that Stiles hadn't moved an inch, eyes staring unseeingly across the room. He walked quietly up to him, crouching down so he was in his line of vision, "Hey." He breathed, afraid to speak above a whisper to the boy, "The pack is downstairs. They want to see you."

The only sign Stiles had heard what he'd said was a faint flush coloring his cheeks and a barely there quiver of his lip. He closed his eyes, pulling his knees closer to his chest, "No." The word was barely audible.

Derek nodded, though he knew Stiles couldn't see him. He stood and walked to the top of the steps, "He doesn't want to see anyone right now. Like I said."

Scott's eyes were filled with tears as he looked up at Derek, "But I need to see him." He argued, walking towards the stairs.

Derek was down the steps in a flash, blocking the other wolf's way, "I think that maybe just this once, you should let Stiles make his own decision. You've made enough for him recently, don't you think?"

The tears in the alpha's eyes spilled over and he wiped at them angrily, "I have to apologize, Derek. I- I have to-" He glared at the floor, body shaking. Allison took his arm rubbing it soothingly, "I'm such a shit friend." He sobbed, turning into Allison's embrace.

As much as he didn't want to, he did feel pity for the young alpha. But he wouldn't let anyone up to see Stiles until the human agreed to see them. Derek grabbed his phone from the table, "I will update you all, but for now, I think it's best you leave. He's in shock right now and it may be a while before he's up for guests."

Allison nodded and pulled Scott along with her, the rest of the pack trailing behind. Derek sighed and pocketed his phone, ascending the steps once again. He stood in the doorway, looking at the young man curled up in the corner of the room. The wolf in him yearned to comfort, but he just didn't know-

Oh. Maybe Stiles didn't want anyone around because he didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want to have to answer any questions… But he didn't have to talk to a wolf.

He stepped out of the room and stripped out of his clothing, allowing the change to take him over.

Blinking open his eyes, he padded into the room towards the boy.

Stiles.

Comfort Stiles.

He whined slightly at the cloying scent of despair, nosing at the boy's hand. Stiles tensed before looking at him. Derek nuzzled his face into the boy's neck, feeling pleased when he felt the weight of an arm circle around him. He stepped over Stiles' body and plopped himself down across his lap, rumbling lowly as the boy began stroking the fur on his back with feather light touches.

He didn't say anything, but that was the point. Derek rested his head on Stiles' arm and closed his eyes, listening to the steady thrum of the boy's heart as he fell into an exhausted slumber against the wall.

Derek too fell into unconsciousness; the last thought his wolf had being of his mate.


End file.
